A Ship's Tale (23 page)

“I can bring it back easily enough,” I whispered.

We loaded up as best we could and found we could take it in one trip. We both took a deep breath and pushed off. We went carefully until we were clear of the Inn and then settled into a comfortable pace. It made a nice walk for us, just me and Katherine on the road, trundling our worldly goods into the future. It would be our last time alone together until we tied up at Dumbarton. I wondered out loud where my pipe was so that I could claim a kiss. I could foresee these being few and far between on this voyage.

The ship was a hive of activity when we came up, and the work would be going on far into the night. Quite a few of the sails had already been tested and then furled up along the yardarms, secured in place by the gaskets. As we reached the bottom of the gangway, Harris greeted us.

“Oh, there you are, Flynn!” he cried impatiently. “We need you up here. Get busy!” Noticing Katherine in tow, he smiled, doffed his hat and bowed. “Welcome aboard, milady,” he purred.

She gave him a smile, and we brought our luggage up the gangway from the wheelbarrow. We were carefully setting down the hamper when Harris reached out his long arm and took me by the back of the collar. “We need you
now
,” he said. Katherine stared at him indignantly, but held her tongue.

Bowman put out his head. “Keep yer voice down, ye great bully, and be about this quickly!”

I smiled and put my best face on as Harris led me down the gangway where the last rolls of canvas were laid out. “These are the sails that'll be used on the jib, and we'll need those up near the bow. The other ones are the spankers and will be needed aft.”

“You don't say! I never knew spankers went aft! Tell me more,” I said with heavy sarcasm. He talked to me as if I were a raw recruit, and I rebuffed him.

He continued, “Get these on board, and then we'll have everything we'll need, except for a few odds and ends.”

I gave him a nasty look, “The odds are there's no ends to it.”

“Well, there are things and then there are more things, but I've kept a very important thing for you to do! It's important, very important, but—” and he struggled to suppress a laugh, “no one could call it a rest cure!”

As I listened, I couldn't believe it. Even an enemy surely would have been more lenient, but Harris was adamant. He had no one to spare except Robert and me, who were agile enough to do the job. Our job was to arrange for the acquisition and application to the furled sails, of a quantity of
mud
! Then, when suspicious eyes would be looking during the tow tomorrow, the sails would look like mouldering rags, just like those of the
Auld Lass
's final voyage.

While I found the prospect of this messy task unappealing, my mind was active as Harris outlined the plan. I could immediately see the difficulties of it. Hauling the mud up to the yards in buckets was going to be a picnic compared to the job of slopping around in the dark to find the right consistency of mud close to the ship.

Of course, it was an essential job, if we were to keep up our deception. I went to find Robert, who was more than happy to leave his current job of showing two of the lads how to clean the heads for something less pungent. We got Boris to show us a spare sheet belayed to the pin rail at deck level and which, at the top of the mast, was already travelling through a pulley. We then had our hoist as we each took turns at either staggering about in the mud or swaying along the yardarms applying mud. At the end of three hours, we were covered with mud from head to foot, but so were the sails that now looked old and ugly. I noticed that Brian had the colour covered on the outside of the rolls with white canvas, so Bowman wouldn't see them till they were set. I knew this was Harris's doing but thought to ask at another time.

The boys were busy handling lines and canvas under Boris's guidance and folding the jibs so they could be raised quickly and easily. Nearby, Harris, Bowman, and Edward seemed to be having an argument held in whispers. As I started towards them to find out what the problem was, Harris and Edward turned away. Bowman, who seemed to have settled his point, started to walk in my direction. Suddenly his eyes closed and he clutched at the lines in the standing rigging for support. He turned quite pale and one hand came up and clapped to his chest. That was twice in one day. This was more than alarming. It seemed that all this activity was really too much for the old man, tough as he was.

I ran up to him. “Can I help you, Captain Bowman?” I said.

“I'm in nae need of help,” he gasped. “I slipped, that's all. I suppose ye think I'm too old to go to sea. Too much work—isn't that it?” he gasped.”

I didn't dare say so. “Well, you look a bit green about the gills.”

“Thank ye very much, Dr. Flynn,” growled Bowman. “Next time I get a medical examination, I shall endeavour to have ye present to give yer expert opinion.”

I watched worriedly as he went off slowly towards his cabin, but had to suppress my concerns for the moment. Surely once we'd gotten under sail and away from interfering officialdom, he could relax a bit and take some of the strain off his labouring heart. I had a feeling that Katherine's presence would have a tonic effect on him. How could it not?

I set to work again, completely exhausted and covered with mud, but with my enthusiasm undampened. When everything on the yardarms was furled, tied, and muddied, Harris assembled the boys around the mainmast and addressed them.

“Now then,” Harris said. “You boys know what you have to do, and do it quickly and quietly. You bigger lads help out the smaller ones. Remember we're a crew now, and a crew works together. We must be set and ready to go before the first ray of sunshine even thinks about coming over the horizon. Bring everything you need, we'll not be returning.”

I got close enough to whisper something to Harris and he turned back to the boys with a grin. “I've just been informed that the headmaster is…er…otherwise engaged this evening and so you'll not need to be so quiet. Get some rest and pack it down. Off with you now!”

The boys all hustled away together and vanished without question or complaint, running into the night to the orphanage one last time. I sagged, taking hold of a line in the standing rigging and clinging there.

“Whew!” I said, looking at Harris. “Where do they get the energy?”

Harris replied, “You forget we were young once. We used to leap about like hares that way.”

“Yes,” I said with a weary sigh, “I do remember, but it seems a lifetime ago.”

“It
was
a lifetime ago, before Hitler. There were millions that didn't get another lifetime. Perhaps what we're doing now is saving a little of our heritage, which is what we fought to keep, after all, and which will honour them for what they sacrificed. God!” he pounded his fist thunderously. “Damn those butchers. May they all rot in hell!”

We stood in silence for a time. Harris went ashore and shut down the lights on the car and lorry, which were growing dim despite periodic running of the engines, while I went down and brought up my chest. The wheelbarrow still awaited returning, but there was plenty of time before it would ever be missed, and I felt sure of getting it back right enough. But right now I had to clean myself up a bit and change my clothing, even if it was not a full wash.

When we at last went below, the lovely aroma of baking enveloped us. Katherine had already put the galley in order and had tested out the stove with a pan of golden shortbread. She'd raided the coal-bunkers and tamed the ancient appliance all on her own. It would see some real cooking now. Bowman sat nearby, sampling the shortbread. She enquired as to how many there would be for breakfast in the morning. I told her there was much to do, and so much critical timing to be observed that I doubted we'd be sitting down for meals at all tomorrow. We simply could not risk even the faintest trace of smoke rising from the fire from the stove.

“Well then, I'll just keep a good supply of sandwiches and cold snacks coming up,” she said. “They may not be hot meals, but you'll be eating, make your minds up to it. Is that quite understood?”

Harris and Bowman both straightened, looking at one another as if a superior officer had given them a direct order. I had to laugh. Harris gave me a look.

“Now then,” Bowman said, “we've only a few more things for the doing this night. Miss Katherine, ye'll remain here.”

“Indeed?” she said. “Well, it happens that I have cooking to do anyway.”

“Then that's as should be. But mind, no smoke must show after daybreak.” He rose from his seat. “But first, put yer carcass in the chair and take what rest ye can for now.”

She softened. “Thank you, but I've no time for sitting just yet.”

Robert and I probably looked like something that had grown out of a swamp. We were still covered with mud, and Katherine was understandably appalled. “And just what have you two been doing?” she said, looking us over disapprovingly.

“You wouldn't believe it if I told you,” I groaned, looking down at my muddy clothing. “I'm off for a wash.”

I went to my cabin for some clean clothes, then to the bath where I had a quick cold wash. I returned to the galley, and after passing cook's inspection, was permitted to seat myself in a chair by the stove while Katherine went on about her business. I'm ashamed to say that I actually dozed off and was happily dreaming when a cry came from above, “They're coming!” By my watch, it was nearly four o'clock. Boris and Harris stood at the rail. “There!” Boris pointed. And there came the boys back from the orphanage, a dim company in the pale starlight, some carrying mattresses, some with great bundles of blankets and linen, and each with a small bag of personal things. It was an orderly and quiet procession, as Boris pointed out. He'd rigged up a little pulley system with an old cargo net to hoist all the bedding on board. After having borne their belongings all the way on foot, the boys gladly piled their burdens into the net. Once their load was on deck, they stood waiting.

“Now then, boys, up to the fo'c's'le with these,” Harris directed. The company moved forward and arranged the bedding on the empty bunks. After a good deal of joking and jostling for the best bunks, they put their pitifully few clothes in the lockers fixed to the bulkheads. After all, this would be home for a time, and they wanted to make the most of it. One of the boys opened the stove, and finding no coal within, pointed it out to Harris.

“Sorry, boys, but there will be no fires till we're under sail. Don't worry over the coal supply, we've plenty in storage. Damned near stripped the old barge clean.” He pointed over the side at the dim remains of the former four-master.

We also saw fog had come up over the dark water, which would soon be filling the estuary from shore to shore.

Given that nearly everything was tucked away properly, Bowman went up and had a brief man-to-man chat with the new crew regarding their duties. They'd now wait in the darkness and silence for the sound of the bo'sun's pipe summoning them on deck. They would be sent to the same mariners' tasks no doubt performed by their ancestors. As that would be some hours off, they were best off getting any rest they could in preparation for the grand moment of setting sail.

It had been decided to wedge the fo'c's'le doors shut before the authorities arrived. No one would have any need to go up there, but it was a precaution. As their beds were now tenantable, the boys retired into their racks for a rest, excitedly anticipating their first call to stations.

Bowman stepped up and cleared his throat. “I know it's going to seem forever, but ye must all lie quiet until ye hear the sound of the bo'sun's pipe. Each of you knows his job. So do it well, and by all means, do it carefully.” We left them then, but I wondered just how many would be able to get any rest.

Harris went below to start up the pumps. The bilge wanted a good clearing out, and when the tug came in the morning, this would look like preparation for towing and not arouse suspicion. Bowman grumbled again over the loss of the anchors. “At least Boris had the good sense to have the compass out of the binnacle before they could get their greedy mitts on it, or we'd be having a fine time navigating,” he snorted resentfully.

That reminded Boris of something important, and he held his finger up saying “Ah!” He went over to a pile of mouldering dirty canvas that shrouded an old lifeboat and pulled it back. There beneath the canvas sat the compass. He lifted it and tenderly carried it up to the bridge deck, setting it in place inside the binnacle. When he finished, Edward ran a couple of quick checks on it and covered it with the filthy old canvas again.

“Looks right enough,” grunted Edward. “My chronometer is in my cabin. I'll make sure of its setting now,” and he stumped off heavily.

Robert pointed to the rotted wood and old lifeboat parts that we'd dumped on shore. Some was rubbish that had never made it onto the
Auld Lass
. There was even some of it still on deck with us. “Are we going to leave this mess?” he asked, “or should we attend to it?” I looked at Robert in dismay. Here he was proposing yet another job.

“That's a good question,” Harris said thoughtfully, “You and Flynn come with me.” We followed Harris down onto the landing. He went to his car and returned with two shovels, handing one to each of us. “Now make a small dig, say about eight feet across.”

My mouth dropped open. “Eight feet is a small dig?” I cried.

Harris frowned, “I didn't say dig till we struck oil, just make a shallow dig! These are customary rituals when scuttling ships.”

We started digging, scraping away the sand and pebbles and mud. With all the demands I had made on my poor body these last few days, I didn't think it would hold up a moment longer, but soon Harris was satisfied with what little we'd done.